On Matters Of The Past, Tornadoes, And Walls
by soulache
Summary: Spixie - One shot possibly


One thing Spinelli knew for sure was that it wasn't supposed to be like this.

First there was Fair Lulu, captor of his ever beating heart. She had completely enthralled him, but felt it necessary to keep him at an arm's length. So many times he beat his head against the wall of their relationship before finally settling on being her best friend. In so many ways he had kept his ear pressed against the grape vine desperate for pieces of her. Eventually the flames began to die down, like flames do when they're left untended. Spinelli could only continue to be there for Lulu when she came to him, which wasn't often anymore. All he could do was love her in the only way she would allow.

Then like a deceptively pleasant breeze swept Nurse Jolene into his life. She was beautiful, that was certain, but underneath laid in waiting a more dark presence. She was broken in ways Spinelli could never grasp with him fumbling hands. All the questions he had to ask her, all the things he wanted to know could never be answered as she slept somewhere far away from this realm. Distantly, he hoped she was somewhere better than here, somewhere safe.

Through some soft of cruel twist of fate he had been handed Wise Georgie's heart. Looking back he could see her face as clearly as anyone in front of him. Her brown eyes twinkling at him in some secret he had always hoped to discover, and now he knew. When he had found her limp on the concrete steps, life strangled out from her beautiful body his heart ached for his friend. It wasn't until later with her email did he discover she had harbored feelings for him. Wise Georgie could've been his one true shot at love, and she was lost now to the land of What If's.

Spinelli was still very much alone, but when he finally thought he would have peace from falling for someone who would never return his feelings he was wrong. She had always been there, on the edges of his life, sometimes causing him grief and pain. She had always been around, but only in the periphery. Sometimes she had brought herself into focus, but only for a glimpse or too, and then she'd melt away into the haze of the distance.

Maxie. The Bad Blond One, The Hostile One, Mouthy One, Evil Blond One, Witchy One. Spinelli never thought the girl who had possessed all those nicknames would ever be something more than them. He never thought he'd find himself sitting across from her at Kelly's and looking into her tumultuous eyes as she told him she wasn't grieving. She was refusing to grieve for her sister or the very recent loss of her boyfriend until the real killer was caught. He never thought he would think of her as The Wounded Blond One, he never thought he'd think of her at all.

And just like that he had been swept up in her personal storm. He remembered sitting in the car with her, their faces illuminated by the street lamps. Spinelli had been lost in his own world of private investigating when she had demanded his attention, more like his silence. Then, as if stuck in a complete mental break from reality, her lips had been on his. Shocked, he realized they were soft and sweet and freakishly enthusiastic. He couldn't help that his arm shot up into the air to grasp his beanie, then almost automatically needing to get lost in her hair. Somehow he had stopped himself, how he'll never know.

Of course, the kiss was nothing but a sham, but that was what set this whole disaster on it's tracks. Now Maxie had rooted herself fully in his mind, she had kicked off her shoes and made herself at home. He couldn't be near her without fantasizing about her, he couldn't be away from her without the same thing happening. Her lips, her legs, her eyes, her everything.

Unlike the other girl's Spinelli had once held in his heart, this was one that made him angry and impatient with himself. It was Maxie, he'd mentally snarl when he'd find himself back in reality staring at nothing, or even worse finding himself uncomfortably close to Maxie herself. He would have a better chance at bringing someone back from the dead than having her return any semblance of feelings towards him.

He had thought there was no way she couldn't know. His heart just about beat out of his chest when she asked him if it was that hard to believe someone could love him, his eyes just about rolled up into his head when she'd touched his shoulder, and when she'd leaned over him he'd just about knocked her over trying to get away from the whole situation.

But she didn't know.

_"I think you pretty much hate my guts,"_ Maxie had said with conviction in her eyes. Spinelli's stupid heart broke a little at that comment. She actually thought he hated her? He cared about her an unrealistic amount and his social ineptness was making her think she couldn't turn to him if she ever needed him. And there was nothing he could say to tell her otherwise in case she might figure it out.

It didn't matter what she did, or what she said, Spinelli only continued to spiral into a hopeless pit of crushing on the wrong woman. Again. It wasn't just that she was beautiful because of course she was. It was the way she had the tallest walls around herself he had ever seen, it was the way she so aptly turned her pain into anger and determination, it was the way she was so self-destructive. It was the difficult, annoying, ugly thorns of her that kept ripping his skin open that kept him coming back for more.

He, of course, can't help but to wonder if he's a masochist. Anyone would have to be a masochist to fall for Maxie Jones. She was a tornado, she was trouble, she was ticking time bomb ready to go off. Spinelli couldn't stop himself with being fascinated with her, with wanting to pick her apart like the insides of a computer and figure out how every little part worked to produce a functioning product.

He only grew more attached to Maxie as they continued to search for the killer. Spinelli began to memorize details of her, slowly at first but then more quickly. He began to learn how to respond to her moods, how to be what she needed at that moment.

It wasn't until that night on the roof that she had been truly vulnerable to him. Maxie had looked into his eyes and told him she was afraid, which almost sounded like a plea for protection. Tears were swimming in her gaze, and it pulled at every string he had.

It wasn't until that night that Maxie let him past the walls. It was then he realize that not only was her heart beautiful, but her walls were beautiful too. He understood why the walls were there, he understood that something as beautiful as her heart deserved to be kept safe. Knowing she would never love him, let alone let him love her the way he realized he desperately needed to, he picked up his hammer and began building walls around her walls.

Just in case she ever needed them.


End file.
